This past weekend, I had the privilege of seeing SoHo Playhouse’s And Her Children. Here are my thoughts. Editor’s warning: mentions of gun violence.

Say what you want about going to college in New York City. It’s cold. It’s crowded. The subways run late, and everything costs twice what it would anywhere else. But man, is it worth it to be close to some of the world’s best theater and stage productions. I remember how the second my Barnard tour guide said “free Broadway ticket lottery,” I decided that I was coming here. 

This past weekend, I was able to take advantage of this aforementioned ticket lottery when a friend won two tickets to a one-woman show called And Her Children, which was playing at the SoHo Playhouse. The theater was tiny; the stage was nothing more than a small, raised platform. The backs of the chairs were ripped, torn, and worn. Despite the theater’s unassuming appearance, all the show needed was a stage and a stool for protagonist Anna Fierling, played by Hailey McAfee, to transport the audience to the most intimate and heartbreaking moments of her life. 

And Her Children centers Fierling, an National Rifle Association (NRA) representative speaking at a town hall in the wake of a high school shooting. She begins her monologue by recalling the list of selfish acts she committed, including saying no to her sister who needed her kidney. She goes on to tell us the story of her children, how she became a mother to her twins as a teenager, with a son coming along later. As Anna continues to tell her story, one thing is abundantly clear, she is a devoted mother. She protected her son when the man they were living with attacked him. She tried to teach her children lessons about the world, about what happens when you are too honest. Despite Anna’s fierce determination to protect her children, she remains an imperfect mother: first, when her youngest son comes out to her as gay, and she tells her small, fifth-grade child to never tell anyone about his crush on his friend. Then, when she refuses to speak to him after he is bullied for coming out to his friend, despite her daughter’s begging and pleading with her. She has a hard time understanding her son, why he comes out to the school, and what she is going to do now that he had. When she comes home from work that day, her son has shot himself. 

Anna’s daughter finds him, and swears to never speak again because what is the point of speaking if nobody will listen? Years later, Anna’s older son brings a gun to school, and commits his own mass school shooting. When he makes his way to the elementary school, Anna’s daughter finally uses her voice to call out to the police, speaking for the last time before her brother shoots her, then himself. 

The play portrays Anna with thoughtful complexity. She does anything she can to protect her children, even when those actions are misguided. I could not blame Anna for representing the NRA. I could not blame her for not knowing what to do when her son is bullied. She was defending her cause and in doing so trying to defend her children. And she has experienced the worst nightmare of every mother or parent. At the play’s end, Anna recounts the loss of all her children in vivid detail, creating a moment of unbearable sadness. Finally, in light of all this tragedy and all this loss, we watch as Anna places her NRA mask back on, and she leaves the stage with a gleaming smile. 

These days, there are certain experiences as a student that feel unavoidable, and unfortunately, one of them is gun violence. I remember the day in middle school when students were told to huddle in the farthest corners of the classrooms while our teacher turned off the lights because we’d feared that a dangerous man had come on the school’s campus. I remember the day in high school when it was announced that we had received a bomb threat. I remember the time where three weeks in a row, my school held a school-wide moment of silence, one for each high school that had experienced its own school shooting. How many other students on Barnard or Columbia’s campus have had similar experiences? How many of our fellow students have experienced that same paralyzing fear? Entirely too many, I am sure. It makes me wonder if, despite the concerning circumstances under which the gates were closed, Barnard and Columbia campus are better off remaining closed to the public. I am aware of the controversy; I am aware of issues that closed gates cause. But I would be lying if I said a small part of me was not comforted by their presence. I was lucky. I’ve never seen gunfire, nor have I ever lost a friend to such a violence. I always knew what that fear felt like as a student. Now, I see what that nightmare could be for a parent. 

And Her Children via Author